Page 29 of Bonded By Christmas
Grim and I are bonded. Whatever comes next, we’ll have to figure it out as a team. Another horrifying realization shocks me to my foundation.
“What’s wrong?” Wilder asks in a low, growly tone, shocking me out of my thoughts.
My head shakes. “I just lost my job. My contract specifically states that I have to remain unbonded to continue employment.” Not that I don’t understand why. A bonded omega’s scent changes to carry hints of their alpha’s. It would set off the clients who are closer to rabid than feral. “God, I’m going to have to go back to dancing, and truthfully, I’m not very good at it.”
“That’ll go over well with Grim.” Wilder snorts, patting my thigh. “Don’t worry about work. Enjoy a few weeks off, settle into your bond, and reassess after the New Year.”
I don’t think he’s purposely being condescending. Wilder and I just come from different worlds. I’m always a paycheck away from being homeless. Rent isn’t cheap, and I’ve been managing all the bills on my own.
He’s also right.
I can’t make any rash decisions without consulting Grim. Bonded couples almost always live together, so maybe I can move in with him?
Except, he spoke about Wilder’s house like it was his too.
“Does Grim live with you?”
“He and Callum both do.”
I’m starting to feel cornered into something, and the scary part is, I’m not even sure what.
Chapter Thirteen
Lacey
The outside of the house is more festive than I remember it in years past. Wilder must like to decorate for the holiday. His dads didn’t do anything, outside of a tree and stockings, the year I spent Christmas here.
The car comes to a stop on the circular driveway rather than pulling into the garage.
“Thank you, Raymond.” Wilder pushes open the door, climbs out, and turns back to me. “Come on, beautiful. Let me help you just in case you’re wobbly.”
Beautiful?
He wiggles fingers, extending his hands.
I scoot over, and he helps me from the vehicle. It’s freezing, and the first exhale of my breath fogs the air, but I barely have time to focus on that.
My legs shake so violently that I grip on to Wilder’s forearms for support. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Your adrenaline is crashing,” he murmurs, pulling the blanket off my shoulders and tossing it over the still-open door of the car. Before I know what’s happening, he scoops me up. I have no choice but to wrap my legs around his ass, or I’d just be hanging down his front.
Wilder tucks a forearm under my bottom, grabs the blanket with his free hand, and rewraps it around my back.
“I’ll let you know when I need you again.” He must be talking to the driver because he closes the door and takes off toward the front steps.
Wilder types a code in on the door handle before scanning his thumb. It’s very high-tech, but I guess he thinks it’s justified.
I’m still having trouble comprehending that he’s had security following me around. I’m almost afraid to ask how long it’s been going on. Like, did his dads have a team following me during my time in college?
Twinkling Christmas lights glitter from the staircases as Wilder kicks the door closed behind us. He turns to relock the door, and I take in the decorations.
The entryway or foyer is enclosed, at least at first. About ten feet down on the left is a small sitting room. It leads to the formal dining room and eventually the kitchen, which is deeper into the house. On the right is the downstairs office.
If you follow the entryway past those, it opens up into the area with the double staircase. Both banisters are lined in white Christmas lights. To the right of the right staircase is a tree that must be nine or ten feet tall. It’s decorated in sky blue, silver, and white ornaments, but if it has lights, they aren’t turned on.
Wilder turns and takes off toward the stairs, and I have to twist my head to continue to see where he’s going since we’re chest-to-chest.
The ceiling in this area is open to the second floor. There’s probably a fancy name for the style, but I don’t know it.
